Stoic
by TheEndOfTomorrow
Summary: An attempt at a bit of introspection and angst taken from a day in the life of fourteen year old Squall Leonhart in Balamb Garden. An experimental piece.


Disclaimer – In no way do I claim any ownership of any of the characters or settings included in this story. It is a fan-work based off Final Fantasy VIII, owned by Square-Enix.

A/N- I've been trying to push myself into writing different genres to see what I can do. With _Let's Meet Offline_ I have a romance piece, with_ Cloud_ _Strife/Emo_ I have something humorous, and _Ideals_ was my shot at a somewhat involved fight scene. All of those appear to have been more or less positively received, but I need to continue to test my own limits. This one is something of an angst piece, which is something I've always been on the fence about. I don't have a nice life – certainly others have it worse, but mine is no cakewalk. Things like writing, video games, friends – these are things I do in my spare time to get away from that reality. An angst piece isn't 'feel-good', I hardly ever read them because they shove me back into that reality I'm trying to escape from. I understand on the other side of the coin that they can be, for both readers and writers, a vent from that reality. This is most definitely an experiment, and I hope that you will enjoy it.

Stoic

A One-shot Fanfiction by,

TheEndOfTomorrow.

* * *

><p>Fourteen-year old Squall Leonhart lay awake. Daylight was just beginning to break through outside the Balamb Garden facility, those early morning heralds of white gold just managing to filter through the cracks of the blinds over his window. 'Classes soon,' the teen thought. 'Why bother?' A nagging little, insistent voice piped up in the back of his mind. 'You don't speak to anyone. You do your work and you leave. What good is it jamming you in a room with the rest of them?' Squall quickly stifled the voice, shaking his head. He <span>had<span> to go, whether he liked it or not. Becoming a SeeD, a combat professional, was all the young boy had in terms of a dream or a prospective future. Classes too, were a part of that.

Flinging himself over the side of his bed, Squall casually glanced around the room. It was a tiny private dorm room which opened up into a larger commons – of course he never stayed, always passing through the area coming or going. The small dorm room was like his own personal sanctuary, the one place that nobody invaded except the Garden faculty, for cleaning check-ins. The area was very sparsely customized, a small file cabinet serving as a bed stand, and a small bookshelf embedded into the wall behind him. Only one object in the room really stood out as "Squall's", and that was the black-and-silver case of a Gunblade, the 'Revolver' - personalized for his own use. He had barely had it a year at this point, previously using training blades which were often less-than-ideal, either too heavy or light. Interestingly, Seifer Almasy actually was the one responsible for Squall's Revolver. After fashioning his own, which he named 'Hyperion', the arrogant blonde chided Squall until Quistis Trepe stuck her nose in – suggesting to the Headmaster that Squall be given his own customized blade.

'The only reason they allowed us these is because we're the only two up-and-coming Gunblade specialists...' Squall thought. It was true – most students would have to buy their own weaponry out of pocket, or use some of Balamb's stock once they became SeeD operatives. Squall and Seifer, being the only prospective users of the difficult but deadly Gunblade weapon were given special treatment. Seifer indulged in it; Squall hated it. 'Wish Quistis had kept her mouth shut…ah, that's 'Ms. Trepe' now.' Quistis had landed SeeD just last month – Squall had hoped that would keep her occupied and out of his way, but the too-mature-for-her-age blonde always seemed to pop up next to Squall just as much as ever before. 'Why can't she just leave me alone...Seifer too, for that matter.' Thinking about and dreading it would get him nowhere, he realized. Squall stood, finally deciding to make himself ready for class.

* * *

><p>Garden code, 2:4 – "Students should be in their seats and waiting for the instructor 5 minutes before class."<p>

Squall was always there fifteen minutes beforehand. Less people were about, he could maneuver to a seat in the back and make sure he was ready for the day's lesson. Squall was a very organized individual – unlike most of the other Garden students who would always scramble in at the last second, frantically searching their bags for their discs or drives with which to upload their work. Coolly, Squall plugged his own drive into the computer, thumbing it on – the study panel clicking to life almost instantly. Detecting the files automatically, it began to draw Squall's work from it. Everything was taken care of, with thirteen minutes to spare. Squall made it a point to stare at the computer, as if he were doing something; anything. 'Stay invisible...stay uninterested.' Squall chanted in his mind, a mantra which kept him focused and empty.

To mock his efforts, a small shadow was cast over Squall's desk. He didn't glance up, instead keeping focused on the screen though obviously not doing anything. Finally, a girl's voice broke in. "Squall, right?"

Unable to avoid it after being addressed outright, Squall glanced up. The girl was in this class, and that was about all he knew of her – even her name completely escaped him. He'd never bothered to learn, and Squall intended to keep it that way. "What?" He asked flatly, making his displeasure and irritation known in his voice.

She laughed lightly, brunette hair swaying with her laughter. "They told me you'd be like that..." Squall's eyes trailed to a group of giggling girls this one evidently belonged to – and felt that bubble of irritation in his stomach flare. He knew where this was going already. "My name's Samantha. Sam, of course!" 'Sam' laughed as if it were funny, before continuing on. "I was wondering, maybe-"

"No." Squall cut in, breaking his glare from her group to stare back at the study panel, pointedly not even bothering to make eye contact with Samantha. This had happened often since puberty - apparently, Squall wasn't terrible on the eyes, and some girls couldn't take the fact that Squall associated with no-one as a hint that there were no exceptions. Inwardly he sighed, outwardly keeping himself stoic and suppressed, betraying no hint of any more emotions excepting inconvenience and irritation to Samantha.

"O-oh…al-alright then." Thoroughly and swiftly shot down in regards to whatever she was going to propose, 'Sam' backed off – Squall hadn't broken his gaze from the study panel, but her tone of voice told him it was with a very dejected look. Squall couldn't bring himself to care less. 'The girl...' Squall had already made it a point to forget her name. '...All of them, really - need to learn that life is full of disappointment.' Naturally, anyone wanting to 'get to know' Squall on any sort of plane would end up very disappointed if Squall had any say. A violent shove from a meaty arm next to him throttled Squall from his thoughts and his seat, an angry Raijin on the end of the offending appendage.

"What the hell was that, ya know!" For his age, Raijin had a bulky build – and an annoying habit of tacking 'ya know' to every single sentence. Squall nearly shot back 'no, I don't know' – before letting his glare do the work for him, eyeing the two other members of the self-appointed 'Garden Disciplinary Committee' behind the angry Raijin. Fujin, arms crossed and almost perpetually silent, and...

"Well, Squall. That was pretty inconsiderate, I have to say." Seifer Almasy smiled – that arrogant smile that always fueled the flames of anger within Squall, the one person within the Garden who could really elicit that emotion so easily from the young cadet. "And it seems maybe Raijin here had a little bit of a 'thing' for Samantha…I can't blame him for reacting the way he did. In fact, I'm more liable to give you a write-up for your harsh treatment of your peer..." Seifer's tone belied the intent of his words – Squall's rival didn't do anything he did without a good reason, and unfortunately it seemed a very good reason for Seifer was 'to irritate Squall.'

"Mind your own business." Squall stood up, glaring right at Seifer. Fujin never acted on her own, and it always shut Raijin down to be ignored. Seifer was the leader, and the one Squall needed to focus on to make it stop. Unfortunately, Squall's attempts to switch the situation off only seemed to make it much more interesting for Seifer. His gaze intensified, an almost feral gleam in the blonde's eyes – like a hungry wolf staring down its prey.

"Oh, but it is my business, Squall. I'm taking it upon myself to preserve the peace within the Garden…" Reaching and grabbing Squall by the collar of his shirt, Seifer yanked him – Squall jarring forward, stopped only by the study panel in-between the two. "That unfortunately includes the oh-so-unsavory duty of dealing out punishment to those who deserve it..." Seifer grinned, that savage edge overtaking all of his features now, from his grin to the angle of his head. Squall would have none of it. Darting his own arm forward, Squall grabbed Seifer in a similar manner – his opposite arm dragging Seifer off his footing, the two rivals staring one another down. Unlike Seifer, he said nothing – Squall was quiet as it was, and preferred to let his actions do his talking for him in a fight. Raijin began to rush forward to grab Squall's arm, but immediately backed off with a look. Seifer caught it, letting Squall go and Squall did the same. The instructor had arrived, already walking over to investigate.

"Well, perhaps this environment isn't conducive to the punishment Squall deserves...how about the training area later, Leonhart?" Seifer quietly challenged – walking off to his desk, Fujin and Raijin in tow before the instructor got close. The older woman stopped by Squall's desk, sternly demanding an explanation.

"Mr. Almasy and you were having a disagreement of some sort?" The curt instructor asked – she was no-nonsense, clipped in her words and in her teaching. Squall shook his head in denial.

"It's fine. No problems." He lied – selling the lie by sitting back down emotionless at his study panel, as if nothing had happened. The teacher cast a glance over at Seifer, kicking back in his own customary seat. Squall had a way of defusing the situations by acting as though he didn't care. On the whole he usually didn't care, but with Seifer it was a different story. Squall already knew he would turn up at the training area, even knowing exactly what would happen – Seifer and he would fight, Raijin would get involved if Seifer happened to be off his game and took too much of a beating, Fujin would keep a look out for other students, instructors or faculty. Inwardly, Squall cursed Seifer and whatever it was that made him feel as if he had to go out of his way to torment Squall especially. He didn't want to bother, but something – possibly something of the same compulsion Seifer felt – always forced him to respond against his better judgment.

Watching the last of the stragglers hustle into the classroom, Squall damned his luck and his life. Ever silent, he only partially heard the instructor start to chide those late students – his eyes focused forward onto the study panel, though not really even seeing it. The truth of the matter was, Squall tried his hardest to vanish. He wasn't even sure why he had started doing it, anymore – he just knew it was something, some instinct within him that he could not fight. He gravitated away from everyone and everything...he convinced himself that he was better off without them and they were better off without him. Damning Seifer again and again for forcing him into action, Squall agonized on the inside. 'Is Seifer sitting there staring me down right now, knowing what he's causing?' Squall didn't even chance a look.

'I don't need anyone. Nobody - neither to love or hate.'

* * *

><p>"Ahhh." Grinning, Seifer made a show of Squall's arrival to the training facility, crossed arms opening wide as if in greeting. The training area was something of a forest that Garden had encompassed and fit to that purpose – the Garden distributing and regulating the numbers of live monsters into the patch of land they laid claim to. Training was always heavily encouraged, with the area always open 247. Being as expanse as it was and with the low surveillance Garden gave the area – to better entice students to fend for themselves in the artificial battlefield – it was a prime area for all sorts of things against the Garden Code to go on, including the 'secret area' social venue..and fights, disguised as training. "What, no Gunblade?" Seifer had his black metal Hyperion stuck into the ground in front of him.

"…" Squall said nothing, not giving in to Seifer's banter. His rival seemed to empower himself off of it, as if it were some type of drug he simply couldn't get enough of. Seifer loved attention, especially in regards to fighting.

Shrugging, the arrogant blonde moved past the blade, rolling his arms before stopping – nodding to Fujin and Raijin, and extending his hand in an 'offer' to Squall. "Fine. Fists this time, then. We SeeDs have to be prepared for disarmament, no?"

Squall could barely contain his disgust. "This isn't training and none of us are even close to becoming SeeDs. I'm leaving." Turning on his heel, Squall was stopped short in his retreat by a well-aimed fire blast from Seifer – the flames blasting the ground in front of Squall, heat and dirt washing over his face as a result.

"An enemy's not just gonna let you walk off like that, Squall." Seifer of course wasn't put off or defused at all – continuing to insist upon the illusion that what they were doing here was 'training.' Squall rounded, hardening his glare.

"You're not even my enemy."

That same savage grin played onto Seifer's features, the blonde teen lowering his hand. "Oh, I'm not? What would that make me then, Squall?"

Squall's logical mind was clawing at him not to say it, but he couldn't stop himself. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing is all that you are."

Seifer's grin faltered a bit, flashes of anger beginning to seep into that arrogant expression of his at Squall's retort. "Very poor choice of words, Squall. Could 'nothing' do this to you?" He was in front of Squall before the dark-haired cadet could react – a square blow connecting into Squall's abdomen. The air left Squall's lungs as he looked up – greeted by Seifer's feral visage – before the blonde sent his forearm backhanded across Squall's face, sending Squall tumbling backwards into a heap. "Pretty pathetic, to have been beaten by 'nothing'!" Seifer laughed, Fujin and Raijin joining in like mindless, preprogrammed slaves.

Squall clutched at the moist dirt, trying to get his breath. His head was pounding, Seifer had connected not one but two strong blows to him, but he _had_ to get up, _had_ to show he could take care of himself, he _would_-

Just as Squall was struggling to stand up, a pair of hands laid upon his back. "Seifer Almasy!" A new voice called, Squall inwardly cursing the owner.

Seifer's laughter was cut short – the revelries had allowed Quistis Trepe to interfere, the older girl currently crouched over Squall. "Ah, of course. You always intrude on our little training sessions, 'Ms. Trepe.'" Seifer even managing to make that apparent respectfulness sound very clearly condescending. "Don't baby him. Squall can handle our SeeD training, right?" Seifer challenged the gasping Squall, goading him into perpetuating the illusion.

"Seifer, I'm not stupid." The slightly-older young woman in her black SeeD uniform glared up at the trio, the three of them wearing bemused expressions. "This is the same story as ever. You and Squall are always fighting, and it's always you who starts it. How many times have the both of you been reported to the Garden Faculty over this? You're never going to make SeeD while continuing to participate in such juvenile-"

"Shut...shut up." Squall groaned out. Quistis above him snapped her head down, staring almost in shock. "Don't...need…or want…your help. I can handle this...on my own." Squall struggled and began to rise – his head pounding, a bit of red blood dripping down into the dirt. In spite of the pain he endured, shrugging a surprised and hurt Quistis's hands off of him to slowly stand up.

"You see there, Quistis? That's the lion sleeping inside him. Squall can _always_ take what I dish out." Ever-arrogant Seifer briskly walked forward, shoving the bloody-faced Squall before Quistis darted between the two of them.

"He's already hurt, Seifer! What do you hope to gain by..." Squall heard the start of her sentence, but didn't listen to the rest. She was trying to protect him, even though he insisted otherwise. He had told her he didn't need her help, and she was still getting in the way. Squall felt the trickles of liquid from his nose, the wet, heated smell of blood overwhelming him; His stomach felt nauseous and his emotions were quickly becoming frazzled. He made to leave quickly, trying to leave Quistis and Seifer behind.

"Squall!" He heard Quistis yell, and walked faster. He didn't need her help. He told her he didn't. His eyes began to water between the pounding aches in his head and body, and his nose – and he walked faster, ignoring the stares, the whispers, the one instructor who had to look twice. Squall would have none of their help, none of their pity. He would deal with Seifer on his own someday, and he would certainly deal with his wounds himself – passing up the infirmary entirely, Squall darted for his personal dormitory.

Closing the door behind him, Squall tore off his own shirt, using it as a means to wipe his face clean of the dirt and blood and checking his nose – painful as it was, it didn't appear to be broken…no lasting damage. Squall tossed the shirt unceremoniously and uncharacteristically onto the floor, something welling up inside him. The watering of his eyes wasn't just his body coping with the physical pain – it was something else manifesting inside of him, something he hadn't felt for the longest time. Raw emotion, specifically sadness. Tears began to flow from Squall's eyes, cradling his head in his hands.

'Why couldn't he leave me alone? How many more people do I have to shove away before they understand? Why can't Quistis leave me be? Why can't anyone leave me be? Why am I even here?' The teenager drilled over his thoughts, like a constant reel of torment in his head accentuated by the throbbing pain Seifer instilled. 'I never wanted to feel like this again...this is the emotion that other people cause. There may be passing happiness or a small laugh...but ultimately, we only hurt one another. That is the core of what we do – struggle and overtake one another to survive and cope. I can deal with it on my own...'

Squall laid back onto his bed, his chest hitching in small, quiet sobs. He knew that wasn't true. Squall Leonhart, for all his silent bluster and lonesome pride, was the least equipped person to deal with a life alone. 'I can't do it. I can't go on alone, but at the same time I can't go to other people for help. I'm trapped in my own creation...' Tears blurred his eyes, so he couldn't look around at his dorm, but he was partially grateful that the four walls shielded his emotion from any outsiders; yet at the same time he damned those very four walls which separated him from his peers... 'My own sanctuary and my own hell...' he thought.

Turning to his side, Squall curled up slightly, hugging his knees as if that was all he could do. Nobody else would, not that he would allow it – he was his own comfort. It did little to help. 'I'm really the one who's nothing.' Followed by, 'Damn you all for leading me to this...Samantha, Raijin, Fujin, Quistis...just leave me alone! Just like her...' Squall didn't even know what he was thinking anymore, trying to calm himself down. He turned, the body-shaking yet quiet sobs finally starting to die down, but warm tears continued to stream from his eyes. He stared down his bland emotionless four walls through the liquid – as if realizing that they were like a reflection of his life, hating both his room and himself for making it so. Hating everyone, everything, questioning his very purpose...it was with these thoughts Squall fell into a tormented, fitful sleep. He wouldn't hear Quistis lightly knocking on his door later to check in on him, nor would he notice the frenzied whispers of Samantha outside his door trying to apologize for what had happened – even if he had, he would have feigned sleep.

Squall woke up in the morning, daylight filtering into the cracks between his blinds yet again. The bloodied shirt and bruises on his body serving as the only reminders of what he had endured the previous night –though Squall felt nothing. The emotion was gone, crushed up and tossed carelessly on the floor like the shirt had been. It seemed despite how eternal the night before had been to be another day, with another round of classes and more personal torment to add onto the list. Squall rose from his bed to begin preparing – stoic, resolute and empty. The final thought he allowed himself on the matter was a quick glance at the lion design on the front of his revolver's case – the silver lion gleaming in the bits of daybreak sunlight peeking into the white walled room.

'Griever.' Squall thought idly, with a small, indifferent shrug. 'Someone has to, I guess.'

* * *

><p>AN – I tried to channel into this my own experiences in the past as a heavy sociopath, filtered through Squall's eyes. The trick was that Squall isn't a person who outright hated people – he just didn't want them to get close, because he didn't want to fail them or be hurt by them. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure it worked, but I'm going to post it anyway. Experiments can very much be prone to failure, after all – it could be that my talents only lie in feel-good fanfiction, which is fine if that's the case. Truly, this doesn't have that bleak of an ending. This was of my own design – I'm not sure I have it within me to write something with a truly terrible ending. Though Squall's situation and mindset here is indeed sad, FF8 will eventually happen and more or less rectify all of that. I do hope, whatever you take from this piece, that it ultimately manages to entertain – and that you, the reader, will take the time to critique it.

Until next time,

Take care, Dear Reader.

-TheEndOfTomorrow.


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